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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059147">shotglass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riken/pseuds/Riken'>Riken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>DreamSMP - Freeform, DreamSMP War, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), mentions of liquor, this is the first thing I've written for this but this won't be the last</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riken/pseuds/Riken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilbur doesn't expect the shot of liquid to be as potent as it is. It slides down his throat like a shooting star.</p><p>He still remembers the burn. It's similar to the heat hazing around him, the sword lodged in his gut, and the hot press of tears behind his eyelids as his father yells something amidst the fire swirling around them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>shotglass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's about time I start brainrotting about these. I do illustrations as well (https://instagram.com/citrikne) related to DreamSMP.</p><p>Also am an avid fan of writing and lore so this was new. I never was into MCYT when I was younger so I'm like the younger generations, heh.</p><p>I write blurbs on the Notes app and will crosspost them here and on Tumblr if I have the chance!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The man rolled the small glass between his fingers, pinching it gingerly. It was no bigger than his fist— really, it was a shotglass— and it glowed in the fire’s ruddy light. Next to him, a blond haired boy poured water in his own glass, the clear liquid spilling onto his fingers. He let out a small curse, but flicked his fingers to send the droplets away.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>“What are we toasting to?” Tommy asked, eyeing the amber liquid in Wilbur’s glass with an undecipherable expression. The campfire in front of them made his normally blue eyes a strangely bright shade of amber. Next to him, Tubbo wrapped both of his hands around the  shot glass of water, pulling the pitcher away from his friend.</p>
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  <p>“What do you toast to usually?” Wilbur asked, swirling the liquid in his shotglass. He didn’t really know what it was or who got it. He had swiped it from their ration storage because the decanter it was in was surprisingly nice— clean cut swirls of glass, a thin bottleneck. “Friends?” Tubbo jolted, his cheeks warming with the fire. “Peace?” Technoblade’s profile flashed in his mind, but Wilbur brushed the image aside. “Freedom?”</p>
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  <p>“Freedom,” Tommy agreed, throwing the glass to his lips and swallowing. Wilbur mirrored him, as did Tubbo. There was no burn at first— really, it was a pleasant drink, faintly reminiscent of smoke. Then, the burn started in his throat, pulsing hot coals. It spread out its wings and took flight, flooding his cheeks with surprised redness and plunging through his esophagus like he had inhaled pepper extract. Spooked, Wilbur forgot to even splutter and sat still as the heat ricocheted through his body.</p>
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  <p>“How was it?” Tommy asked, smirking at Wilbur’s expression.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Interesting, I’d say,” Wilbur replied uneasily, his tongue moving like wet paper. “If I had to compare this to something, I’d say an unexpected explosion.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t think you’ve ever even experienced something of that caliber, anyways,” Tubbo chimed in, smiling. Tommy guffawed, slapping his knees and nearly chucking the glass in his hand in the process.</p>
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  <p>“Imagine Wilbur running around doing that! The absolute madlad.”</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <hr/>
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  <p><em>The absolute madlad indeed</em>.</p>
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  <p>Heat seared his forehead as the world bloomed gold in front of him. Shrapnel shot into the air like suspended matter, morbid confetti. He collapsed to his knees, breath knocked from his chest, and wheezed. Panic? Laughter? Relief? Something akin to that, Wilbur supposed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He craned his head around to look at Phil, his father’s eyes brimming with unspoken words. Wilbur spread his arms, feeling embers spark against his skin, and said words that spilled through his mouth like a broken dam.</p>
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  <p>He didn’t expect the sword to be as hot as it did.</p>
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